CHAPTER XIV
BEATRICE MAKES BISCUITS
STEELE built the fire and singing in full throated content went for another armful of wood. Beatrice appropriated the freshest looking of certain doubtful dishcloths improvised from flour sacks and so was aproned. Steele, returning with marked promptness, stood at the wide doorway, his arms heaped high with fuel, his eyes taking stock of her after his frank fashion. Her sleeves were up on arms round and rosy, her hair was already beginning to achieve new charm by defying various pins, she had a frying pan in one hand and the last morsel of honeyed bread in the other. To disguise the real effect this vision of Beatrice, domesticated, had upon him Steele summoned a shake of the head and a frown.
"You've sort of spoiled the boyish effect," he said as he threw down his load of wood. "But Lord, a man mustn't expect everything in a cook, must he?"
"The water will be boiling in another minute," said Beatrice, quite matter of fact. "Will you have tea or coffee? And the beans, I see you have some boiled already. I have found the onions; if you'll show me where a tin of tomatoes is I'll give you your frijoles à la Mexico in half an hour. Lots of red pepper?"
"Everything seasoned to the queen's taste," laughed Steele, "and it'll suit me."
156
